Nihil lay unconscious in the small crater he'd created, his trembling body slowly rewoven by `Null Reconstruction`. Elf rangers stood in a loose semicircle around him, bows raised but undrawn, expressions a mix of awe, fear, and disbelief. They had witnessed a single entity drive back a Demon General and his legion alone.
Princess Lyraelle was the first to step forward, her twin blades still dripping black demon blood. She stopped a few paces from Nihil, sharp eyes assessing every detail—the horrific cycle of suffering and regeneration, the absolute exhaustion radiating even from his unconscious form.
"By the stars," she whispered to Elara Moonveil, who stood beside her, a data tablet recording every energy fluctuation. "What... *is* he?"
Before Elara could answer with her scientific terminology, Lord Elarion Arcanum stepped forward, face pale with fury. "He is a catastrophe! A desecration! You all saw it! That power... it is not of this world! It is poison given form!"
